


No Way To Fight It

by TheInfamousGabby



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Bill is a dick, BillDip, Dipper is hella cray-cray, Gideon is a little shit, Lots of OCs - Freeform, M/M, Mabel is hardly mentioned, SOOOOO OOC, You're gonna hate him, asylum AU, how do tags work, idk - Freeform, pretty effed up, she might be in some of that later chapters, slightly aged up characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousGabby/pseuds/TheInfamousGabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper, having slowly begun his descent into madness, is forced into a mental institute, where he meets a very peculiar man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     Gloved hands latched onto Dipper's shoulders, and he could feel the cold, latex-clad digits through the thin material of his shirt. He jerked his body desperately, trying anything to escape from the figure's grasp. "Dipper." The voice cut into his fear-filled haze, the familiarity calming him minutely. "Please don't fight against him. He's just trying to keep you safe, to keep us all safe."

     Mabel stood a few feet away, watching the scene unfold through eyes blurred by a steady stream of tears. "You have to believe me," the boy insisted as he was pulled further and further away from his twin," I'm not insane!" The girl didn't respond, but turned away, her shoulders shaking as violent sobs wracked her small body.

     "Hold still," the figure restraining him grunted, giving up on his attempt to lead the boy peacefully toward the police car awaiting them. Thickly muscled arms encircled Dipper's waist, and he was lifted into the air, his feet kicking out wildly. His captor hobbled toward the vehicle, depositing the boy into the caged area behind the front seats. Dipper waited in frustration as the man started the car, backing out of the Mystery Shack's parking lot, away from the life the boy had grown to love. He was thrown against the back window as the car veered around, allowing him one last glimpse of Mabel waving sadly at the rapidly departing vehicle.

     Whipping forward to face the man who had stolen his life away, Dipper lunged at the wires separating them, startling the driver enough to cause the man to jerk at the wheel, sending them into a wild swerve that led to a near-collision with a passing car. "I hate you," the boy hissed, visibly seething. The driver merely shook his head, his concentration returning to the road. An inhuman growl of rage escaped Dipper, and he bared his teeth at his captor, calling the man names so profane, had Mabel been there, she would have washed his mouth out with glittery soap. Displaying admirable restraint, the man only smirked. "If you're going to curse my family and me for the entire ride, then you should at least know my name." He continued with such small talk, introducing himself as Officer Paul, Head of Security.

     Dipper, long past desiring civil banter, sneered at him. "And you probably know me. Dipper Pines, town loon." Every word was soaked in verbal venom, but, much to the boy's frustration, each failed to raise any reaction whatsoever from the man.

     Giving up with a pout, Dipper turned his back on the officer, amusing himself with dark thoughts involving situations where certain annoying officers were brutally tortured. The rest of the ride passed in silence, except for the few times Dipper would mumble threats under his breath. It seemed like hours before the police car pulled into the parking lot of a dismal building, complete with a grey facade and an inexplicable lack of windows. Officer Paul allowed him out, keeping a firm grip on the boy's slender arm, discouraging any plans Dipper had of escape.

     The words Gravity Falls Mental Health Facilty seemed to blare from the squat sign in the parking lot, instantly drawing the boy's attention. His dark eyes shot around, taking in the immense forest surrounding the building. Judging by the surroundings and the time spent driving to the isloated location, there wouldn't be a town for miles.

     A tug on his arm returned his thoughts to the current predicament. The officer glared at him, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, and proceeded to usher the boy toward the lifeless building. The door, Dipper noted as they passed through, was glass, though it was several inches thick and tinted to prevent onlookers from glimpsing what lay within. He was escorted inside and down a hallway, everything in sight a sterile, monotonous white.

     They passed rooms very much like the ones in a doctor's office, the door to each one closed tightly. As they walked on, the occasional voice could be heard from a room, while others remained completely silent. The echoes of footsteps rang out at even intervals down the hallway, faltering at a door on their left. Officer Paul, whose blank expression momentarily morphed to one of sympathy, reached into the pocket of his uniform, selecting a keychain that held enough keys to fill a bucket. He flipped through them until he found one with the same number the black plate on the door depicted. Room 180.

     The officer stepped foward, his gloved hands never parting from the teen's thin shoulders, and unlocked the door, roughly pushing Dipper inside before the boy could comprehend the sudden change. He fell to the floor, his momentum carrying him forward, and he threw out his arms to catch himself. They met with soft, colorless carpeting. His head shot up, and his eyes widened; he was surrounded by padded walls. Propelling himself upward, he regained his footing, and began to closely examine his prison. A burning, overpowering anger swept through him, and he threw his small body at the door with a muffled thump. "Try to behave yourself, kid. They might go easy on you since you're young," Paul's deep voice drifted quietly through the door. "Only fifteen," the man mused," way too young to be locked up in here." Then came the sound of receding footsteps, soon followed by a choking, lonely silence.


	2. Chapter 2

     Days passed and Dipper remained there, locked in Room 180 until he felt as though he would lose all that remained of his shattered sanity. The hours, crawling by painfully slowly, were spent moping about his unjust situation, falling into fits of anger, missing his sister, and wondering what had happened to his life; what had led to this seemingly permanent visit to the Gravity Falls Mental Health Facility? Up until the night of his forced removal from the Mystery Shack, it had been a moderately boring summer, just like the other, more recent ones. Sure, he and Mabel had stumbled upon some strange creatures in their prior years, but solving all of the town's mysteries seemed childish and immature to him now. These thoughts continued to irk him, for, unknown to the boy, the reason for his time at the institute was the long nights he'd kept Mabel awake, talking to himself or muttering in his sleep. When questioned, the boy often grew cagey and violent, threatening physical harm against his beloved twin. The usually cheerful girl had grown to fear Dipper and his unpredictable moods, longingly recalling the times they had spent together, before her brother was not quite the same.

     The grating sound of plastic against plastic filled his ears as the slot in his cell's door slid open and a tray of food was pushed through, exactly the same as every other day. Dipper walked to the door, bending over to collect his meal when he noticed something peculiar, a variation in the usual, unaltering routine. A cheap watch sat on the tray, everything but the numbers adorning its round face boasting a brilliant white coloring. His eyes scanned it, locking onto something pinned to the tray but its small weight. He lifted it to reveal a crisp piece of paper, marked only by a single crease in its midst. He picked up the watch first, sliding the cool band up his thin wrist, admiring it for a few moments before returning his attention to the paper. He sat down, balancing the tray precariously in his lap and nimbly unfolding the paper, completely disregarding the food that accompanied it. He smoothed out the crease until he could perceive the words on the delicate sheet, each written in neat, blocky handwriting.

     "At 1:30 you will be allowed to leave your room for one hour of recreational time. Afterward, you will be assigned to a long-term room."

     He flipped to the back of the paper, dark eyes searching for more, but, to his immense frustration, it was blank. He glanced over at his newly-acquired watch, his eyes following the second hand's journey around its base. The hour hand was stretching toward the twelve, announcing to Dipper that he had over two hours to dwell in his miserable confines, biding the time until he was finally freed from the four walls that had guarded him for nearly a week. Now that he had hope for leaving what he considered as a personified hell, the boy found it impossible to sit still and allow time to pass. He looked for distractions within his cell, but all there was to do was eat or sleep, so the boy did exactly that. He choked down the flavorless food provided by the staff and curled up on the floor, the supple carpeting providing him with comfort, and he waited to be drug into the chaotic realm of his dreams.

"Mr. Pines."

     Something hard nudged his ribs harshly, yanking the boy from his uneasy doze. A long-fingered hand reached down, grabbing the teen's shoulders and forcing him into a standing position. A tall, balding man stood before him, dwarfing Dipper's small frame. Wire rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of the stranger's beaky nose, enlarging the man's dull, colorless irises. "It's your recreational period, Mr. Pines. I would recommend taking advantage of the free time before you are escorted to your new room." The man's voice was high and contained an irritating nasal rasp. Dipper nodded mutely, overcome by both joy and apprehension at the prospect of finally abandoning his imprisonment. The man turned without another word, striding into the hallway with Dipper following closely behind him. They traveled in the opposite direction than Dipper had when he had first arrived at the mental health facility, continuing until they reached a locked door. While the man was fumbling for his keys, Dipper took the opportunity to examine his surroundings, spotting some of the other occupants of the building, each with a young adult dressed in hospital scrubs. Just as another patient, a girl with long, red hair had begun to approach, the door swung open, and Dipper was ushered inside before a single word of protest could escape his lips. Before him lay a bijou room filled with about a dozen people, all of whom were either milling around restlessly or sitting at a table and drawing. With a purposefully loud sigh, the boy strode deeper into the room, glaring at anyone that strayed into his sight. An amused chuckle drew his attention, and he fixed its owner with a death stare. "So adorable," the person replied with a delighted gasp," like an angry duckling or --better yet-- a kitten!" Dipper clenched his fists, taking in the stranger's odd appearance. Long, unnaturally yellow hair fell in strands that obscured his right eye, the bright coloring darkening to a deep, coffee brown near the base of his skull. A tight, cadmium yellow vest hugged his svelte torso and ebony slacks clung snugly to his long legs. The man, now walking toward Dipper, extended a gloved hand and offering the boy a generous smile. "The name's Bill," he declared amicably, his constant state of giddiness grating on Dipper's strained nerves. He growled at the blonde, pushing past him unceremoniously. Bill's thousand-watt smile dimmed slightly, and he scurried after Dipper. He caught up with the teen just as he collapsed into an uncomfortable, plastic chair. Artificial light glowed above in blinding bulbs, bringing back the brunette's fond memories of frolicking with his sister beneath the sun's beaming rays.

  
     "Hey, Pine Tree! Hello, anyone there?" Bill was in his face once more, his ever-present smile growing brighter than the glaring lights above. Confusion overtook the boy's anger. Pine Tree?

  
     The blonde's booming laughter filled the small room once more as he laid eyes upon the boy's perplexed expression. "Well, you never introduced yourself," the man defended himself good-naturedly, gently flicking the boy's hat with a single, slender finger. "I just said the first thing that came to mind." Ignoring the chipper man's attempts at conversations, Dipper reached across the table, snatching a piece of paper from a nearby stack and a pencil from the center of the table. Seemingly oblivious to the boy's ill temper, Bill slid into the seat beside him. "So," the oddly dressed man drawled," You must be new." Upon receiving a bemused glance from the boy, Bill quickly explained, gratified to have finally caught the teen's attention. "Mr. Control Freak over there only goes into tour guide mode with the latest victims." He waggled his golden eyebrows playfully and the corner of Dipper's lip quirked into a smile. Nudging the peppy man, Dipper swiped his arm in a wide arc,gesturing to the entirety of the room , the resulting wind almost blowing his paper off of the table. "What are we supposed to be doing in here?" Bill noted that the venom had drained from Dipper's voice, and he just sounded tired, like a young teen unexpectedly torn away from his life.

  
     His beaming grin never fading from its usual radiance, Bill began an explanation that, coming from anyone else, would have seemed dull and tedious, but the man knew how to twist words to his will, captivating those who listened. Dipper sat with apt attention as Bill explained. "This, Pine Tree, is the room employees refer to as the Recreational Center, but we victims prefer to call it the Craft Center for Crazies." He paused to give Dipper what the boy assumed was a wink. For the first time, the brunette noticed a triangular eye patch concealed by the wave of flaxen hair. "But," the man continued in his oddly high voice," Being the lazy psychopath that I supposedly am, I tend to call it the Tri C. It's basically a room where we get an hour to interact with people besides our roommates and to 'express our creativity.' " He mockingly held out a blank sheet of paper as if it were a magnificent work of art. Dipper's minute smile grew steadily larger as he listened to Bill's thoughts on the facility, most turning into long rants that ended with the blonde's face creasing into a pout and the teen bursting out into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"Mr. Cipher."

     They were interrupted by the cold, nasal voice of the man who'd led Dipper to the Recreational Center. "Yello," the blonde man greeted cheerfully, his single eye crawling up from Dipper's face to the man standing above them. "Could you please show Mr. Pines to your room when your recreation period ends? I've assigned for you two to share sleeping quarters." Smiling agreeably, Bill responded gleefully," Sure thing, Baldy! But what happened to my old roommate?" The other conversations in the room died down, and every head turned, anxiously awaiting "Baldy's" response. When the man spoke, he uttered only two words, but they carried enough meaning to cause the room to erupt into chaos.

"Solitary Confinement."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my hectic updates; I write what I can when I can. So, I hope you all enjoy, and don't hesitate to comment!! I like reading what people think! Anyway, I'm going to get back to writing....

Bill and Dipper were quickly escorted from the room as voices swelled in fear and despair. They padded quickly down the hallway, followed by none other than Mr. Control Freak himself, his face contorted into a snooty expression. "I will never understand," he complained in his nasal voice," how you all can immediately change from feelings of indifference toward someone to complete anguish when they get assigned to Solitary Confinement. Honestly." The stream of words was interrupted by a sigh of annoyance," You act like it's a death sentence of some sorts." Dipper, since he was standing directly beside Bill with the balding man following behind, was the only one who hurt Bill's sarcastic mutter," That's because it is." As much as the teen wanted to question him, to draw every bit of knowledge the blonde held about the facility, Dipper miraculously resisted, leaving the trio to walk in complete silence, taking a route he had never traveled in his moderately short attendance. He noticed that the room numbers were considerably smaller than around where he had first stayed when they paused before an unostentatious door, branded with the number 12. The egotistical man strode away, muttering under his breath and pushing his wire rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't stand that asshole," Bill declared, turning to face the door and swinging it open and holding it for Dipper. The teen nodded before slowly walking into the room, his dark eyes taking in the white, unadorned walls and the two sets of bunk beds pushed against the wall. In the corner of the room through a crack between a door and the wall, Dipper spotted the bathroom and wrinkled his nose, deciding that he would rather his old imprisonment. At least there he wasn't forced to share a bathroom with an overly cheerful stranger.

Bill continued to speak, oblivious to the fact that his audience was absorbed in his own thoughts. "And this, as you can probably tell, is our room. Just be glad you're stuck here with me and not any of those other psychopaths. Sheesh, those guys are crazy!" Once he seemed to understand that Dipper was still processing the change in environment, he fell silent, walked over to one of the bunk beds, and falling back onto the bottom bunk. "You're welcome to take the top." He called out to the uncharacteristically quiet teen. "Or, if you prefer, you can play king of the room and have the entire bed over there to yourself." The blonde gestured languidly toward the unoccupied beds before turning to face the wall with a contented sigh, leaving Dipper to battle the tumultuous waves of thoughts threatening to crush him beneath their sheer number. However, though his thoughts were anything but serene, he calmly climbed the ladder attached to Bill's bed and laid on the top mattress. Once settled, he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him, washing the chaotic thoughts from the day from his roiling mind.

* * *

 

"Hey, Pine Tree."

"Kid, wake up."

"Hello! Anyone home?"

Dipper groaned, attempting to turn away from the source of the sound, but some unseen object held him firmly in place. Reluctantly, he cracked open his eyes, catching a glimpse of sandy hair before he was roughly shaken, drawing all hopes of returning to sleep from him. "What do you want, Bill?" he croaked, his voice deepened with sleep. The eccentric man sat beside him on the mattress, an impatient look crossing his features. "Look, Pine Tree, breakfast started ten minutes ago, and I'm not missing it because you're feeling lazy." The teen rushed about in a haze as his new roommate busied himself with minor tasks, waiting for the brunette. Dipper halfheartedly looked for a comb or a toothbrush, but his caretakers at the facility obviously had spared no time in providing anything whatsoever to insure that the boy's personal hygiene was upheld. Seeing that he had nothing left to do, he allowed Bill to drag him from the room to the cafeteria. All around them were doctors and patients, none of whom appeared particularly happy to be where they were. Bill, who was intent on receiving his meal before it was cold, wrapped his long fingers around the teen's wrist, pulling the brunette behind him until they were behind a short line of people.

In front of them stood a woman who was painfully thin, her dull hair pulled back into a ponytail. She offered her place in line to the roommates, who accepted it thankfully, moving forward until they stood behind a man in his late twenties who looked surprisingly normal. Dipper felt puzzled when Bill, upon seeing the man, had ushered the boy behind him, using his slender body as a shield. As they moved up in line and the patter of footsteps grew loud enough to drown out their words from unwelcome ears, the blone quickly informed," His name's Brendon Wheaton. He was found guilty on several charges of pedophilia and rape, but claimed insanity to avoid retribution for his transgressions. Stay away from him." Dutifully, the boy never strayed from Bill's side, and, in return, the man talked about the other patients. Dipper found himself being fascinated by the histories of those around him, knowing that his own story would soon be added to the ones spread around like bedtime stories there. Before he knew what was happening, Bill was nudging him toward the table and a tray of food—when had that gotten there?—clutched in his hands. He sat down at the first table he came across and Bill sat across from him, fixing him with an intense stare.

"So, Pine Tree," the blonde drawled, his single eye never abandoning the teen's face," What are you in here for? I would have read your medical records, but the staff has been locking the doors to the filing room." Glancing up from his plate of what was supposedly chicken, Dipper hesitated. Was he really ready to divulge his life story to a complete stranger? Apparently he was because, with an encouraging glance from his companion, he was practically spewing words, and, judging by Bill's occasionally nod or smile, the blonde found it all interesting.

"Aren't you going to tell me anything about you?" the brunette asked once he had said what he considered to be enough to satisfy Bill. He waited for the man's response, but all he received was silence and that same unsettling stare. Instantly, a feeling of dread overtook the boy. What had he been thinking? He had just told a man he'd met in a psychiatric ward about his family and life. For all he knew, Bill could be like Brendon, a criminal feigning insanity. As if sensing the boy's unease, the man smirked, a short bark of laughter shaking his svelte frame. "I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie, kiddo. My past is something you'd be better off not knowing." With those final words, the man stood, his long legs carrying him from the room, and leaving Dipper alone in the sea of unwell, slightly ominous patients.

"You'll get use to that after a while," a deeply accented voice spoke up from behind him, and he turned to see a short teen with alabaster hair combed back into a pompadour style. "The name's Gideon," the teen introduced himself, extending a chubby hand. Dipper shook it, fixing the stranger with a pointed glare. "Whoo, someone's feisty." Gideon chuckled, waiting for the brunette to speak. With a sigh, Dipper managed to add to the somewhat one-sided conversation. "I'm Dipper," he said simply, still in a sour mood from Bill's puzzling antics.

"Nice to meet you, Dipper," the short teen chortled," Oh I can tell already that we are going to be inseparable. Just you wait, I'll show you how fun an asylum can be."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how short this is.... writer's block is a bitch

_A never-ending corridor stretched before Dipper, the walls on each side lined with plain doors. The teen tried the one nearest to him, but it was locked. On and on down the hallway he attempted to open each door and continue to get the same result. Confusion and frustration mingled within him, provoking him into screaming senselessly at the walls until his voice grew hoarse and broke. His own hands traveled up to tug at his hair, ripping sepia strands from his scalp. He didn't understand why this corridor tore at his nerves so much. Was it the uncertainty? The helplessness? Thoughts battled through his head, distracting him so much that he nearly missed the echoing creak of old hinges as a door opened behind his turned back. The teen froze as ragged breath chased away the silence left by the absence of Dipper's voice. An unseen figure stood directly behind him. Dipper could sense the being, though no physical contact was made. He didn't dare face the entity for fear of what horrendous creature it could be. The silence spanned them, building up until the teen was yearning for the climax to appear and relieve him from the paralysis he was consciously trapped in. The lights above him, bright enough to send spots dancing in his vision, flickered, and the boy felt_   _hot_   _breath tickle the back of his neck as the figure leaned in. The words spoken, though nearly indiscernible from the enveloping quietness, sent Dipper's mind reeling into the scattered abyss of his mind._

**_"You're safer here than out there."_ **

* * *

 

Dipper shot up in his bed, knocking his blankets off onto Bill's bunk below him. The man curled around them in his sleep, snoring peacefully as if nothing unusual had occurred. Dipper squeezed his dark eyes closed tightly, his chest heaving. "It was just a dream," he assured himself in a panicked tone," Just a dream. None of it was real. You're okay, you're okay." In the dark room, Dipper felt as if he were being watched by invisible eyes. Tears began to bud in his eyes, caused by both fear and anger; fear of the creature from his mind, anger for being afraid. "Nothing's there, Dipper," he whispered into the room, his throat raw and aching. "Please let there be nothing there." He shuffled on the rumpled sheets until his legs were tucked beneath him, goosebumps covering his flesh like a blanket. As if thinking of blankets had reminded his body to be cold, the teen began to shiver, glancing down longingly to where Bill held the brunet's cover captive. With a sudden burst of confidence, he crept down the ladder attached to the bunk bed, constantly pausing to check over his shoulder. He was startled when his feet struck the floor, barely restraining from crying out. Once he'd regained his balance, Dipper peered down at his sleeping roommate, contemplating the best way to retrieve his stolen blankets, which were,by then, tangled into a nest. 

"Bill," Dipper said as well as he could with his lightly impaired speech," Bill! I need my covers!" The man merely shifted in his sleep, too deep in sleep to respond. Dipper, who was nervous and tired, decided that Bill wouldn't mind it if Dipper slept beside him for one night. After all, the blond was so warm that the boy probably wouldn't even need the blankets that were currently unretrievable. Carefully, the boy climbed into the bed beside his thin roomate, nestling closer to the unusually warm man. Unconsciously, Bill pulled the teen closed, until the boy felt all of the negativity from his pent up emotions dissolve, replaced by a peaceful calm. He felt himself relax as sleep took him once more, void of any dreams, dark or light. Yet, at the back of his mind, there was an unfamiliar sensation that, no matter how hard he tried, the brunet doubted he'd ever be able to describe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, the next chapter will actually have some plot development

Dipper awoke to the feeling of the surface beneath his body trembling, and he forced his eyes open to gaze upon the golden iris of none other than Bill Cipher. With a groan, the teen lifted himself from atop the man, just in time for the blond to finally burst into a fit of laughter, his olive skin flushing a dark pink. "Whoa, Pine Tree, I knew we were close, but I didn't know we were _this_ close!" His single eye filling with tears of mirth, the man struggled to catch his breath as the teen slid off of the bed, fixing his companion with a glare. "Shut up! I was just cold last night and you were holding my blankets captive." Smirking up at the disgruntled boy, Bill playfully replied,"Whatever ya say, Pine Tree," before standing and stretching his limber frame. Rolling his eyes with a grumble, Dipper rubbed at the dark rings under his eyes; though he hadn't looked in a mirror, he knew they were there. They always appeared when he'd had a poor night's sleep.

"So, kid, I've been meaning to ask about your so called 'condition'", the man confessed with a sheepish grin, his words startling the boy who had been drifting off into his own thoughts. "I mean, you're supposed to have several symptoms of conditions that would cause even the best of psychotherapists to flinch, but I haven't seen anything but normal human behavior from you. What's that all about?" The tired boy merely shook his head, a puff of air escaping his thin lips. "Do you really have nothing better to do with your life than pester me?" Dipper asked good-humoredly as he changed from his rumpled night clothes into a dark orange shirt, paired with khaki shorts and a navy jacket. His chipper roommate merely smirked in reply, dressing himself as well before striding over to the door and holding it open for the brunet. "Come on, Pine Tree, breakfast awaits!" The boy silently followed his cheery companion as the man slid out into the hallway, lined with door after featureless door. Bill kept up a constant stream of chatter as the two walked past doctors and patients, all of whom were bustling back and forth busily. For a moment, Dipper thought one of the passing people looked familiar, but the thought was fleeting as the man turned around, and Dipper saw he was just another one of the seemingly endless amount of doctors.

"Come on, kid, you could at least pretend to be paying attention!"

"Sorry," came the distant reply, "I'm just a bit tired. My mind's kind of fuzzy. You know what I mean?" The blond nodded, rolling his eyes at Dipper. "That means your weak, mortal body needs sleep." Snorting, Dipper fought back a smile. "Yeah, I guess it does." 

They continued on their way, footsteps echoing on the tile beneath their feet. Just as the quickly approaching silence threatened to engulf them, Bill and Dipper reached the cafeteria, splitting apart as they entered, for the eccentric blond had to "stuff down some food before he was forced into a classroom and force fed useless information with a bunch of senseless lunatics" as the man oh-so-eloquently declared before ambling away into the swarm of people. Nodding toward his roommate's retreating back, the brunet pushed his way through the faceless mob of grasping hands and complaining mouths, hoping to get some food before it was cold. He picked up a tray and stepped into the lines of both patients and doctors who were quickly running out of patience. In some twisted way, the institution reminded the boy of a school. The teachers, or doctors in this case, observing the students—patients— and how they interacted with each other. The boy amused himself with the thought of the twitchy, uncomfortable people around him being forced to function in a public school system as he moved forward with the line. Before long, his tray was full of flavorless food, and the boy was seated at the end of a table, as far as possible from the others who shared his prison.

"Well, well, well, Dipper Pines! It's nice to see ya again," a voice drawled from over the brunet's shoulder. "I don't remember telling you my last name, Gideon," the teen answered, mystified as to how the shorter boy could have possibly snuck up behind him twice in a row. Dodging the implied accusation, Gideon slid into the seat next to Dipper's, his tray plunking down onto the table. "So, are ya enjoying the asylum? Everything suiting your needs?" Gritting his teeth, Dipper attempted to ignore the younger teen, only to find the boy tugging insistently at his sleeve. "What do you _want_  Gideon?!" Dipper snapped, annoyance racing through his veins. He found something about the white-blond haired boy to be completely deplorable, and his lack of rest the night before was impairing his ability to maintain a facade. However, none of this seemed to faze the boy, who just laughed off Dipper's less than pleasant retort. "Ya don't have to be so tense, boy. I'm just lookin' for an ally in this nut house, and ya seem to be one of the smarter ones locked up in here. Though ya do appear to be pretty close to that one eyed freak show," he mused aloud, fat fingers fiddling with the plastic utensils on his tray. Dipper opened his mouth to defend Bill, but hesitated. After all, he had only met the man one —or was it two— days before. 

"Anyway, I'll be going now, but think about it, Pines. There's something funny about this place, and I know I'm not the only one who's noticed." With those final words, Gideon picked up his untouched breakfast and disappeared into the swarming group of people, leaving Dipper alone once more. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certainly not late or anything...

Dipper walked from the cafeteria after he'd finished his nearly flavorless breakfast, fully intending to spend the day tucked away in his room, contemplating which of his peculiar acquaintances would prove to be a better ally. However, as he passed aimless shadows flowing down the sterile corridor of white, a latex-clad hand gripped his shoulder, and he was turned to face the same man who had first led him through the labyrinthine institution, his sharp features carrying a tight, pinched expression. "Oh, hi... Baldy," Dipper addressed the man with a smirk, watching as the thin man's expression twisted into a sneer. "Nice to see that you're getting to know the other patients, " he retorted nasally, scowling at the teen," Since you've settled in so quickly, I'd say it's about time for you to begin your treatment." Barely comprehending the tall man's strange words, Dipper opened his mouth to object, but he was silenced as the gloved hand crawled over his lips, stealing the words from his throat. 

The man led Dipper down the hallway, veering off course to open one of the doors lining the corridor. As he flipped through a ring of seemingly identical keys, the man's long digits loosened their grip on the brunet, who instantly lunged forward, only to be yanked back by the deceptively strong figure. The teen was pulled forward before he could put up much more of a fight, the door closing behind him with a muted thud. Dipper glanced up at the man nonconsensually escorting him into the room that had previously been inaccessible. Four walls, their white paint chipping away to reveal the rough cinder blocks beneath, were lit by flickering bulbs, causing the shadows to dance around the room in a ritualistic cadence. The doctor's narrow face was turned toward the boy, colorless eyes observing him as he glanced around. Dipper's heart pounded with a combination of anger and fear as he was guided toward the center of the dingy room and forced to sit in a wooden chair with a tattered paisley cushion. On the arms of the chair were metal bands that Dipper could only assume were intended to bind him to the chair.

Gritting his teeth, the teen twisted and contorted his body in every way possible as he attempted to escape the steel grip of the elder man. Slamming his forehead into the papery skin of his captor's face, the brunet sent the man's glasses flying across the room. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Dipper shot out of the man's impossibly cold grasp, stumbling over his own feet as he ran for the door. His feet thudded loudly against the bare floor as he screeched to a stop, desperately turning the doorknob, but to no avail. Whipping around and pressing his back to the cool metal surface, Dipper watched as the bony man strode forward, his long fingers clutching Dipper's wrist in a painful grip. His thin face contorted into a grimace, the man yanked the teen forward and forced him into the chair, snapping the bands closed around Dipper's slender wrists. 

"So, Mr. Pines," the balding man casually  addressed his imprisoned audience in his nasal, rasping voice, " What exactly makes you angry? What inspires enough rage within you to cause you to lose control?" Clenching his jaw tightly, the brunet refused to utter a single word, glaring defiantly at his captor. The lofty man slammed his palms down onto the chair's arms, causing Dipper to instinctively flinch. Icy, colorless irises latched onto the boy's, the cool orbs seeming to devour every bit of warmth contained within the boy's form. "I must advise you to cooperate, boy. There are certain  _treatments_ available, and those who administer them aren't nearly as kind as I am." Dipper felt his stomach clench into a painful knot of nerves and fury. What had he ever done to deserve this? He kicked at the man standing before him, his foot connecting with the ankle of the balding man with a solid thump, and the man's face creased with an indeterminate expression before he erupted into peals of gasping laughter. "Oh, Mr. Pines, that was excellent! So spontaneous and full of anger! So  _completely predictable._ You're exactly like every other teenager out there with anger issues." Shaking his head, the man sighed, his amusement evaporating into the dismal room's miasma of inky darkness. "What a shame, kid. I thought you may have been special, but you're just ordinary. A normal, conventiona–"

Dipper's face flushed red as he released a tumultuous river of words. "Ordinary? I'm not ordinary! I've seen more things than you could ever imagine. You're a fool, old man. If I wanted to, I could completely obliterate you."

"Do it."

Dipper froze, his words dying on his lips. "What?" The man smirked, his dull eyes crinkling the tight skin surrounding them. "If you're so powerful and mighty, go right ahead. Destroy me." Dipper, on the verge of returning to a more mellow state, began to backpedal, uttering excuses and other nonsensical phrases. "Exactly like I thought." The man turned away with a chuckle, and Dipper narrowed his eyes until all that was visible were slits of cocoa. His fingers twitched as his hands fiddled with his restraints, summoning his sense of self-preservation. He was certain that the imposing man was calculating his every move, analyzing his actions to sort out his condition. However, at this moment, the boy couldn't quite bring himself to care. His fingers unfurled from around the metal bands the bound him, pointing toward the back of the man who had foolish exposed himself to the boy's unbridled wrath. Quivering with the amount of power surging through them, the brunet's digits seemed to elongate as the minute beams of light surrounding them were pulled together, drowning the room in darkness except for a glowing ball of energy levitating before his thin fingers. Just as he had begun to gather his energy to send the spherical projectile careening into the base of his captor's skull, he slumped forward, the consciousness stripped from his small frame.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *uses way too many parentheses*

When Dipper opened his eyes, he was laying on his bed, and his roomate was chatting animatedly, seemingly unaware of the fact that the boy had been unconscious. He groaned loudly, interrupting Bill's monologue. 

"Oh, heya Pine Tree! According to ol' Baldy, you didn't take well to your treatment." His words were delivered with a grin that was entirely inappropriate considering the situation. 

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?" the teen groaned in reply, screwing his eyes shut tightly. He couldn't remember much of yesterday, just talking to that annoying kid Gideon and going somewhere for treatment. 

"Just a construct of the human imagination, kid. Now tell me," the man paused, rummaging through the drawer that held Dipper's clothing and pulling out a paper the brunet was pretty sure wasn't his. "Does this look deranged to you? Because our lovely doctoral staff told me it 'doesn't show improvement to my condition.'" The paper in question was a bunch of squiggly lines almost completely covered in red splotches that looked like Bill had slammed a marker repeatedly on the paper. The red spots were labeled "blood" in neat cursive.

Dipper shot him a look.

"I know, right," his roomate exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Completely unnecessary criticism right there."

Dipper snorted, rolling his eyes, earning a grin from the cheery man. He sighed, forcing himself to climb down the ladder to the floor, stretching languidly. "So what all did I miss yesterday?" He asked, a yawn interrupting his words. The blond merely shrugged, his eyes flashing with something akin to glee. "I dunno, Pine Tree, time doesn't pass normally here."

Dipper glanced down at his wrist, opening his mouth to correct Bill and show him to watch the brunet had received on his tray only a few days prior, but it was gone. He closed his mouth with an audible pop, gritting his teeth.

"Bill? Where is my watch?"

 The eccentric man froze, his eye widening. Dipper felt anger curl in his stomach. "Bill," he repeated slowly, his voice deceptively calm. That watch was one of the only things he had for himself in this institution, and he'd be damned if he let his stupidly peppy roomate steal it from him.

"No worries, kid," the man replied quickly, striding over to the dresser, this time searching through one of his own drawers. "I took it off so it wouldn't get ruined when they gave you a shower."

Dipper sighed as the chipper man's hand emerged clutching his watch, tossing it to the teen.

"Now, hurry up, kid. We have places to be."

* * *

 

Dipper followed Bill blindly, despite the remaining irritation fighting to light into a full-fledged flame. The blond had refused to answer questions such as who had given Dipper a shower ("Don't worry about it, kid. It's best you don't know.") and how he always knew what was going in this hectic place (" 'Cause I'm smart, Pine Tree. Now shut up. You're gonna make me commit a homocide, and then I'll never get outta this hellhole.). Sometimes he just wanted to hold the man down and force the answers out of him. There's no way Bill could know so much about this place and the other patients without inside information.  

"Hey kid, you done brooding yet? I've been telling you a fascinating story this whole time, and you haven't heard a word." The svelte man pouted, stealing Dipper's hat, and placing it on top of his own head. 

"Man, have I missed wearing one of these."

"Give me that," Dipper grumbled, standing on his tip-toes to snatch his hat back. "And I'm not brooding. I'm just...thinking." His eyes crawled up to the hallway they were walking down, and it seemed blurred and unfocused. He squinted and rubbed his eyes. Everything shifted back into focus, and the boy sighed. If he weren't already crazy, he was pretty sure this place was driving him toward the edge.

"So," he began, eyes wandering back to the energetic man beside him. "Where to next?"

His words were met with a vicious grin from the blond. "We're going to visit an old friend of mine."

 "An old friend," the teen echoed quietly, trying to remember if he'd seen Bill talking to any of the other patients. The space between his eyesbrows creased, and he worried his lip, following the eccentric man as his feet devoured the hall in long strides. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw Bill at all. Only when they were in their room or in the cafeteria.

Discomfort crawled within him, and he fought it back down. He hurried to catch up with Bill, matching his pace.

"Who is this...friend," Dipper asked hesitantly, still a bit unsettled for reasons he couldn't explain. 

 The thin man patted his shoulder, smirking at him. "No need to sound so jealous, kid. You'll always be my favorite meatsack." Rolling his eyes, Dipper tried to push Bill's hand away, only to be pulled tightly against the man's side. "Now stay close. This... friend doesn't always understand boundaries."

"He's not the only one," Dipper grumbled under his breath, but he complied, allowing Bill to keep him caged against his side. Smirking far too widely for his narrow face, the blond led Dipper down the hallway, which seemed marginally more clear to the boy than earlier. Before he had the time to ponder this, he was yanked to the left and into a door he was certain had been locked.

Dipper opened his mouth to gripe at the rough treatment but quickly snapped it shut. The room before him was, dare he hope, a library. A sparse, dimly lit one but a library nonetheless.

"Well I'll be darned. If it isn't Bill Cipher and his little pet," a voice drawled, instantly morphing his astonishment into mild annoyance.

"What do you want, Gideon," Dipper groaned, screwing up his face. He already felt exhaustion gripping him with pointed talons, and all he wanted to do was talk to Bill's "friend" and go right back to bed (maybe spend a little time in the library if Gideon ever left). 

"Why, I reckon we're here for the same reason, ain't we, boy." 

The brunet rolled his eyes, turning pointedly to face Bill. "Where's your friend," he hissed. "I want to get away from that creep." He gestured fairly obviously to Gideon, who was sitting at a plastic table between two of the sparse shelves and smirking.

Bill's grin grew wider, and understanding struck Dipper like an oncoming train, sending a feeling of dread to the pit of his stomach.

"Gideon's the friend we're meeting, isn't he?"

The blond's expression gave Dipper the answer he needed. 

"But you hate him!"

Bill's grin devoured his face, and the boy had to fight not to flinch at the intensity in the man's expression.

"I like to keep all my threats where I can see 'em, Pine Tree. Right under my thumb."

Dipper tensed as the blond's arm wound around his waist, and the man pulled him toward the table Gideon had claimed as his own. The sound of cheap chairs screeching against the tile floor echoed through the quiet room, and Dipper felt his heartbeat flutter nervously. 

"Well, Dipper Pines, it has been a _while_ , hasn't it?" Gideon declared, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced precariously on two legs. Dipper furrowed his brow, confusion only growing as his two companions laughed, sharing a joke he felt annoyed to be deprived of. 

Bill glanced over at the brunet, ever-present grin curled across his face. "But, back to business," he announced, pressing his hands palm-down on the cool surface of the table. The lights flickered overhead. 

 Gideon chuckled quietly, and Dipper felt his head spin, the room blurring in and out of focus. He vaguely noticed that Bill and Gideon were speaking, but their words were muffled and distorted. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, he found himself face-to-face with the white haired boy.

"Better rethink your alliances, boy. We both know what's goin' on in here. You just have to  **wake up**." 

The words, barely audible to the teen, faded completely as his eyesight was overcome by an inky darkness, and his final thought before it consumed him was that he sure hoped that Bill cared enough to bring his unconscious body back to their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually lost the notes I'd made for the plot of this story when I first began it, so chapters may be a bit slow while I'm rewriting those. Sorry, guys!!


End file.
